


Helping Hands

by Cousin Shelley (CousinShelley)



Series: Van Helsing April Fool's Day Stories [10]
Category: Van Helsing (2004)
Genre: April Fool's Day fic, Epistolary, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Self-Discovery, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-01
Updated: 2014-04-01
Packaged: 2018-01-18 00:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1408021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CousinShelley/pseuds/Cousin%20Shelley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the April Fool's Day story written on 4/1/2014. Not all of them deal with All Fools' Day, but they were all started and finished on April 1st of that year. I wrote one in 2005, and it became a thing I do every year, writing a complete story on the 1st--this is the 10th in a row for no good reason except my own enjoyment. They can be read independently of one another unless otherwise noted.</p><p>(I posted last year's for a friend to read on the 1st and completely forgot to upload it here. I realized it after writing this year's. Both are posted late, but will be backdated properly.)</p><p>Stefan, a young acolyte of The Order, takes after Carl in many ways, including his love of pranks. His prank on Carl leads to an interesting revelation. Self-discovery ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Helping Hands

Dearest Dmitri,

I hope this letter finds you well. I know it has been months since the last, and for that I am sorry. The Order has been keeping me very busy. I’ve been assigned as an assistant to Friar Carl, a brilliant inventor who says I have great potential. It’s thrilling to get such high praise from someone so accomplished.

But his accomplishments aren’t why I’m writing to you today.

I wanted to tell you about something that happened recently that has given me a new perspective on myself, you and our friendship. It happened on All Fools’ Day, after I’d been working with Carl for a few scant months.

***

“Carl? What are you--”

“ _Shhhh_.” Carl grabbed Stefan’s arm and pulled him along, practically running away from the table where he’d just smeared a clear substance Stefan didn’t recognize.

“But--”

“Stefan, _shhh_.” Carl held a finger up to his lips and pulled Stefan around the bottom of the stone stairs that led into the laboratory. “Just be patient and listen.”

Carl’s face lit up with anticipation. It took several minutes of waiting before anything happened. When Brother Caleb’s voice rang out, Carl smiled, baring most of his teeth and holding his shoulders in a permanent shrug.

“What--? Why, what on earth!”

Carl pulled Stefan around the corner enough to see Caleb trying to pull his elbows off the table, where Carl had apparently glued them down.

“Don’t worry,” Carl whispered to Stefan. “It doesn’t retain its adhesive properties for long. In fact--”

A shout was followed by the clatter of something being knocked over. They looked again to see Caleb on the floor where he’d knocked over some of the blacksmith’s latest creations. He’d obviously been pulling furiously at the elbows of his robe when the “glue” released him, sending him flying backwards to knock over the raw materials the blacksmith used to make blades.

“Oops,” Carl whispered, but then he put his hand over his mouth and laughed. Stefan, wide-eyed, did the same.

***

Friar Carl does this every year, Dmitri. It seems All Fools’ Day is a favorite of his, and he rather got me into the spirit of the thing with his lighthearted enjoyment of it. So I decided to play a trick on Carl. He’s the one usually playing jokes on people, and I thought he might enjoy to have the jokes turned on him for a change.

The towel he uses to wipe his hands with constantly when he’s working seemed an obvious choice. I dusted it with a powder that would transfer to his hands and then cause everything he touched to retain enough of it to glow in the dark--a bright blue, no less!

I waited until almost time for us to retire before sneaking the powder onto his towel to avoid every thing and person in the lab turning blue. Carl typically has his hands everywhere through the course of a day, after all.

Not long after I’d carried out my sneaky dusting, a Knight of the Order, our best hunter, arrived in the lab, back from a treacherous mission. Gabriel Van Helsing had not been happy about leaving Carl behind--Carl typically serves as his field assistant these days--but he'd agreed with the Cardinal that it was far too dangerous to take him.

Carl wiped his hands on his towel and rushed to greet his friend. They’re best friends, you see, Dmitri, almost inseparable when Van Helsing is here. And I’m sure equally inseparable in the field, though I could not bear witness to that.

While I was disappointed I wouldn’t get to see Carl’s reaction as we walked to our rooms in the darkened halls after completing our work, I was grateful to see Van Helsing home safe, and that Carl was so happy to see his friend. I was sure Carl’s reaction the following morning would still be satisfying, especially once he learned who had played such a clever joke on him.

  
***

Stefan cleaned up their workspace after Carl left in such a hurry. He wished he’d thought to tell him he would before he left so he wouldn’t come back and take time out from hearing Van Helsing’s tales of danger and adventure.

He was on his way to his small cell and his cot, walking easily through the dim hallway because he knew the way so well and wasn’t likely to encounter anyone, when he heard footsteps and voices rushing toward him.

“I said I don’t _know_ how it happened, and is that really the most important thing right now?” Carl’s voice said as it approached.

“How do we get it off--that’s all that matters, Carl.” Van Helsing spoke quickly, sounding breathless.

“I’m sure soap and water will-- _ahhh!_ ” Carl’s shout on seeing Stefan cut off his thought.

Stefan’s mouth fell open to see Carl, his cheeks glowing blue, his shoulders, the front of his robe from his neck to--

“Quick!” Carl whispered, grabbing the front of Stefan’s robe and pulling him along, rushing them to his room. And depositing blue on Stefan’s chest.

Once in the room, before candles were lit, Stefan realized that there was blue on the back of Carl’s robe, as well. _All over_. And Van Helsing was dappled in a similar way.

“Oh my,” Stefan breathed, realization dawning. Carl had taken Van Helsing’s hands in his, probably in joy at seeing him unharmed, transferring the powder to his hands as well. And the blue blotches all over their faces and bodies . . . some clear handprints in places that . . . well, Stefan understand their urgency to get out of the dark corridor.

“Oh my?” Carl said, finally getting three small candles lit and giving them enough light to see by. Van Helsing was busy pouring water from Carl’s pitcher into his washing bowl. “Oh . . . _oh!_ Oh, no, no, no. _No,_ Stefan. Oh, this is a terrible misunderstanding. You see . . . your prank--it _is_ yours, isn’t it?”

Stefan nodded.

“Very good, nicely done. Anyway, your prank crossed with mine. Didn’t it, Van Helsing?”

“Mmm? Yes.” Van Helsing scrubbed at his hands and face. “If you say so,” he mumbled.

“It _did_. My prank of . . . itching powder! Yes, itching powder. Your powder transferred from my hands to Van Helsing’s as I pressed his hands and hugged him after his safe return. And because I know how much Van Helsing loves my All Fools’ Day jokes--”

“Oh, I _love_ them,” Van Helsing groaned in a tone that said he did not, in fact, love a single one.

“--I doused him in itching powder. Thinking it would be funny.”

“Ha.” Van Helsing rubbed a wet cloth over his chest, his shirt unbuttoned to the waist.

“Yes, _ha_.” Carl rolled his eyes in Van Helsing’s direction. “And in doing so, I coated my own hands and robe. So in no time, the both of us were rubbing and scratching our own faces and arms.” Carl scratched his chest and belly as if to demonstrate, and with another eye roll and a sigh, he scratched his robe low in front where some blue had been, as if he were scratching his groin.

“And then I begged Van Helsing to scratch my back, and I scratched his, and so you can see how your clever glowing powder got all over us this way.”

The room was lit enough for them to see each other’s faces, but dim enough that a faint blue could still be seen all over their skin and clothing. When Carl turned to check on Van Helsing’s progress, he gasped--two blue blotches glowed on Van Helsing’s pants, one on each buttock.

Van Helsing looked up at Carl’s gasp, and they seemed to have an intense conversation with their eyes and eyebrows for a moment, before Van Helsing cringed. “Turn around.”

Carl did. Two perfect, large, bright blue handprints decorated Carl’s robe where it hung over his bottom. Van Helsing made an affirmative grunt.

“Oh, well, I really got that itching powder everywhere,” Carl said, laughing, and then grabbed his own buttocks, one in each hand, and scratching with an exaggerated motion to be sure Stefan knew exactly how those handprints got there. “It’s enough to drive a person mad!” He laughed nervously.

***

Dmitri, I told them I could see how it had happened just as Carl said, and let on as if I believed that a coincidence was the cause of the handprints they each now wore.

I didn’t explain to Carl that if he’d cupped his own bottom where those handprints had been to scratch, _the thumbs would have been pointing toward his hips_ instead of inward, as they were. I played along, and got a few good-natured head pats from Carl, along with a raised eyebrow and a tenative smile from Van Helsing. But the truth was that no one else, having seen them, would have believed that itching powder had caused that much . . . touching. The only reasonable explanation, aside from the truth of the matter, was that they had both been set on fire and the other had tried to pat out the flames. Carl's robe and Van Helsing's shirt and trousers had fewer clean spots than soiled ones.

They had embraced, touched each other, held and caressed each other in a way that two men should not. And my only thoughts were that I had almost caused them serious consequences with my joke, and that I suddenly felt less alone in the world.

Watching them and understanding what I’d seen made me think of you, Dmitri, and how our friendship has always been the most cherished one of my life. I wish you and I could have what Friar Carl and Van Helsing have now, even though it necessitates deceit and stealth, but I know you are betrothed to the girl you’ve loved since we were children, and you would not understand.

The Church, the Holy Order, they would not understand, either. Not the way I feel about you, and realize I always have, or the way Carl and Van Helsing feel about each other. They would face the most dire consequences if their secret were to get out.

It won’t. Not by my word or deed. That’s why I have felt free to speak now of the secret Order and its laboratory, and the love between men that most other men would condemn. This letter will never reach you. I’m going to keep all of our secrets, Dmitri, simply because it’s necessary. I’ve made a confession in the only safe way I know--one that ends in ashes at the bottom of an iron stove.

It was enough to write it down just once, to let myself think it out and acknowledge that I feel the way I feel. And if those feelings are all right for Friar Carl--if they do not diminish him, and they do not in my eyes--they do not diminish me. It is enough, today, for me alone to know this.

Yours eternally,

Stefan

***

Stefan put his quill back into the pot and folded the crude parchment. It was rough on his fingertips and hadn’t taken the ink particularly well, but it hadn’t mattered. No one would ever have to read it.

He carried it in his sleeve until he reached the laboratory. Carl would be waiting for help with his new invention--a weapon that throws flame like arrows. Stefan was determined to help him see it come to fruition.

As he passed one of the many stoves burning in the lab, Stefan hooked the lid and lifted it enough to shove the letter inside. He made a sincere wish that one day someone would be as understanding of him as he was now for Carl and Van Helsing.

“Stefan! There you are, come and help me.” Carl put his arm around Stefan’s shoulders and led him to their worktable. Caleb eyed them suspiciously as they passed.

“I hope you know I’m under strict instructions to more carefully supervise you today. Orders straight from Gabriel Van Helsing, who still hasn't quite rid himself of blue fingerprints in some areas.”

“I _am_ sorry that my simple prank caused you so much--”

“Washing?” Carl laughed. “He'd just arrived home--he needed a bath anyway.” Carl winked at Stefan and patted his back. “Let’s get started and put some of your mischievousness to work on something constructive, hmm?”

Carl leaned in and whispered. “And next year, Stefan, you and I will work together to come up with something truly remarkable. Brother Caleb won’t stand a chance.” Carl laughed, then laughed harder at the nervous stares aimed their way.


End file.
